


Home is Where the Wolf Dens

by Cuzosu



Series: Wolves and Losers [1]
Category: Iskryne Series - Elizabeth Bear & Sarah Monette, The Losers (2010), The Losers (Comic)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Team as Family, This is basically Losers with psychic wolves, and a happier ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:14:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27922849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuzosu/pseuds/Cuzosu
Summary: Jake Jensen meets the Losers.In true Jensen fashion, this goes disastrously -- not least because his wolfsister starts acting like a puppy instead of a fully grown queen bitch.Can the day get more awkward? (Yes, yes, it can.)
Relationships: Carlos "Cougar" Alvarez/Jake Jensen
Series: Wolves and Losers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2044669
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Home is Where the Wolf Dens

**Author's Note:**

> From start to finish, this entire thing is because I dragged my friend Fei into Losers fandom. I'd apologize, but, well. I don't think either one of us is sorry. All's well that ends well? (Or, uh. Doesn't end. I have three side fics and a second entry in this series to add, which is a WIP, plus thoughts on another thing down the line.) 
> 
> I and others have beta'd this several times, but if you spot anything -- well, this was a c&p with minimal editing on site, I'm not adverse to editing more if people find things I didn't mean to have the way they are. 
> 
> Tags! I cannot for the life of me _think_ right now, and I have several other things to add to the series I'm creating with this, so! If you think of a tag I should use, let me know! Series is eventual Cougar/Jensen, though there isn't much here yet.

All the Losers knew about how Cougar lost Bella was that they'd been placed on observation in Afghanistan and when the team had gone in for a rescue, no one could find her and Cougar had all but shut down. He'd been quiet before; now he was mute. Clay worried, but there was nothing he could do. Given the general status of their missions—FUBAR—loss was closer than any of them liked to think. Still, Clay knew he wasn't getting anything fixed by sending the sniper for mandatory sessions with yet another army shrink. If Cougar was damn near non-responsive to the other Losers, despite all their shenanigans, no therapist had a chance in hell of getting through his facades.

A dark-haired man walked out of HQ waging a silent but furious debate with himself. How best to tell Cougar their team was getting another queen wolf? Clay wracked his brain, trying to find the elusive needle in a haystack before deciding it didn't damn well exist. In the end, he decided, fuck it, he'd call the sniper into his office and tell him solo, give him enough heads up to hopefully handle the emotional upheaval without unneeded attention. It worked about as well as could be expected—Clay saw muscle flex in his jaw, saw the cowboy hat tilt a fraction lower—knew it was a hard thing to face, having to work directly with reminders of close loss. But, as per his usual, Cougar's control was impeccable. Even the wolfbrother at his side merely flicked his ears, a lupine, “Oh, okay.”

It wasn't okay. There just wasn't anything any of them could feasibly do about it.

Cougar left the room with the large, silver-and-black wolf. 

Clay fought the urge to pray.

Jake Jensen's entrance was more spectacular than he'd expected it to be. Donna was a sweet lady most of the time, but her mother had named her well.  _ Sweet poison and pine _ was anxious over some smell and wouldn't settle. She was typically kind and gregarious, but she could also be prickly and lethal with little to no notice—and for some reason that Jensen wasn't following, she was hyperactive over a scent. He was catching hints of something, but they were walking to their new team quarters and he was more focused on getting the brindle bitch to behave for introductions than he was on finding out why she was acting overeager.

As it turned out, that was a mistake.

The blond man knocked on the door, a façade of calm cheer wrapped about him. A scarred black man opened the door, growling, “What?” Donna shot past him through the doorway, knocking him aside and eliciting a curse from the man.

Cougar heard the knock on the door, Roque's footsteps move to answer it. The door opened—and he turned just in time. Ambushed by the overwhelming  _ sweet poison and pine _ scent being shoved at him, it was only the thought of puppies that kept Sangre from getting territorial.

“Oh my god!” Jake was horrified. Relieved as hell that the other wolf was sitting this out—they SO did not need a fight just as they transferred to a new team—but horrified that his sister was showing such a lack of discipline so soon. “Donna! Don't make them hate us the moment we walk in the door,” he groaned piteously.

She looked up at him from the floor, where the man she'd tackled now had her pinned with a hand at the base of her skull and most of his weight on her shoulders.  _ Gunpowder and leather and iron, _ she whined back at him. And, with more emphasis,  _ Gunpowder and leather and iron! _ Like it was a valid reason reverting to puppyhood despite her training. Her tail was still wagging.

The man on her back loosed her, stood, and walked back to an overturned cowboy hat. “Make me lose this again, chica, and perrito or not, I won't stop him,” he pointed to the large black male wolf with silver-tipped fur, “from getting territorial next time.” Said wolf met Donna's eyes, narrowed his own, bared fangs and let out a warning growl. It had no effect on her exuberance.

Jake took the moment of wolf disciplinary time to assess the humans in the room. There was the scarred and intimidating black man who'd opened the door, slipping a knife back into a sheath. The other man—the one his sister had gone for, the one with the cowboy hat—definitely had Hispanic lineage, was lean but muscled, and apparently had a LOT of patience. Not many people would put up with a wolfsib who wasn't theirs all but flattening them.

Deciding the scene was over, the black man drew their attention to himself. “I'm the XO, William Roque. Call me Roque. You the new pair?”

“Yes, sir,” came Jensen's response. “Corporal Jensen and wolf Donna. Sorry about the greeting. Never seen her do that before.”

Roque grunted, yelled, “CLAY! New guy's here!”

It didn't take long for not one but two men to come down. Jake was pretty sure the older white guy was the CO.

Clay felt his eyebrows rise as he took in the scene before him. Sangre huffed and walked away from the queen, who was somewhere between crouched and laying on the floor and looked unsure about moving just yet. Cougar was starting to clean his gun again; Clay could only hope he didn't scare the new guy off too soon. Roque had returned to the kitchen and was sharpening knives, while the new transfer himself was standing awkwardly in the hallway, eyes flitting between Cougar and the wolves.

Stepping off the stairs, Pooch trailing, Clay fixed his gaze on the newcomer. “Jensen?” he asked.

“Yessir.”

“Your file's an interesting read.”

“Better than boring, sir.”

Clay fought down a smile, noted Cougar's smirk. “Keep the shenanigans to a minimum, soldier, and you'll do fine.” Nodding, he walked to the kitchen for breakfast.

Behind him, the brindle female rose and walked toward Cougar and Sangre. Pausing before she reached either of them, she tilted her head and flicked her ears to indicate that, in this situation, he was the dominant wolf, and then she went to the sniper and sat on his other side, leaning against him with a relieved sigh.

Jake sought out the man in the cowboy hat in his first moment of free time. He'd dropped his stuff off in what he'd been informed was the room he shared with Cougar—whoever that was—and he was still feeling a mix of relief and insatiable curiosity. Then he got there and couldn't find the right words to start with. Fidgeting probably didn't help.

Brown eyes glanced at him from the shade under the hat, hands never paused as the rifle was cleaned and reassembled. One brow rose in query. It was apparently all Jensen had needed to unblock his words.

“You didn't seem too upset by Donna earlier,” he began, “and I was wondering why. I mean, if it had been me and some stranger, and their wolf pounced on me, I wouldn't have taken it that great—and you did and I'm thankful, really, I appreciate it, and your brother was awesome, too—so I totally understand you have reason to be upset but I'd kind of like to know why you didn't even lash out at her yourself.” And he took a breath and waited, blue eyes intently curious, even more so since Donna was still leaning on the man.

Cougar wasn't sure if he was annoyed or amused; the new guy was obviously a chatterbox, since he'd said all of that in one breath. Now he waited, practically vibrating with pent-up energy.

The brindle bitch pressed her chin into Cougar's leg. From her, he got a sense of  _ please like him, play with us, need pack, need trust. _ He eyed the big blond a moment longer, idly noting the glasses, muscles, and the way his posture kept bouncing between proper and slouched. Finally, the sniper informed his new teammate, “Her mother was my sister.” Then he nudged his furry visitor off his lap and rose.

As he walked off, he could hear the frantic words aimed at the young queen. “Oh my god, Donna, you made me look totally inept in front of him!”

Donna sent back a reassuring,  _ Gunpowder and leather and iron playing with puppies. _

“That doesn't help,” her brother growled.

Maybe it didn't help Jensen, but it sure as hell amused Cougar.

Jake entered his room to discover the man with the cowboy hat and his large black wolf. To fend off awkwardness, he started with, “So, we didn't get introductions out of the way. I'm Jake Jensen. This is Donna.”

Donna reached out, politely this time.  _ Sweet poison and pine, _ she offered to the black wolf. And then, to both,  _ Ozone and burnt fur and puppies. _

“Cougar,” was the man—and Jensen was trying SO hard to behave, to not make a 'Cat in the Hat' comment. Then that hat tilted, introduced the wolf as, “Sangre.”

Sangre, for his part, offered his own scent name as Donna pulled them into the pack.  _ Frozen bloody battlefield and a fresh wind. _

Blue eyes blinked at Cougar. Jensen smiled. “Guessing that means you're  _ gunpowder and leather and iron, _ then.” A nod of the hat. Jake circumvented the question of how the other man had lost his sister by asking, “Known him long?” with a nod to Sangre.

Cougar shared a look with the black wolf. Looking back at Jensen, he stated softly, “Since Russia.” Then he laid back on his bed with his hat over his eyes and Sangre hopped up beside him.

Jensen was a little put out to have the conversation ended so abruptly, but at least the other man hadn't been as rude about it as others before him. Having had people slam doors in his face, knock him off steps, and threaten bodily harm, the blond could honestly say that Cougar's simple silence—while staying in the same room, no less—was downright refreshing. He could like this guy.

Donna wandered back out to explore her new territory while Jake dug out his computer and got hacking.

“So what did you do to annoy Cougar?” Pooch couldn't help but ask. The team had gathered in the living room, the wolves sprawled on the floor while most of the humans gathered around the TV for a movie.

Jensen, sporting bruises over pressure points, pouted and muttered something about greedy bastards. Across the room, Cougar leveled a stare at the blond. It wasn't quite a glare—there was something more satisfied than pissed about it—but there was definitely leftover anger in that expression. Even Roque was watching the sniper with more caution than usual.

It wasn't hard to put the pieces together. Cougar really only got greedy about three things: his candy, his hat, and his guns. Jensen didn't seem the type to go for his guns and he wasn't bleeding on the floor, so he must have gone for the candy. Pooch eyed his newest teammate with dubious amusement.

“You...tried to eat Cougar's candy?” Clay voiced their concerns about the tech's sanity through tone alone.

“Safer to steal Roque's stash,” was Pooch's opinion.

“Try it and die,” growled Roque. The scar only added to his threat—or was it a promise? Sometimes nobody could tell.

“I kinda see his point, though, Roque,” Clay admitted. “You'll knife the thief and be done with it; Cougar makes it his personal mission to teach a lesson no one forgets.”

“Even if they aren't his target,” came Pooch's rueful comment.

Cougar's smirk was just visible under the brim of his hat. Bloodthirsty amusement wafted through the pack sense from Sangre, underlined by Donna's happy,  _ Gunpowder and leather and iron playing with puppies. _

For his part, Jensen pouted. Even his wolf was on the sniper's side. “So you have me room with the guy who's most likely to kill me?” he sulked.

Dryly, the CO retorted, “No, that would be Roque.”

Arms crossed and glowering, the XO snorted. It was telling that he remained silent; Jensen was starting to wonder if this new team was comprised of crazy killers. First the sniper almost killed him, then he learned the XO was  _ more _ likely to kill him? Jensen might have been born blond, but that didn't mean he was stupid. He just...missed the occasional social cue, that was all.

“Still wanna know why you tried to steal his candy,” Pooch told the tech.

“I just—it was sitting there! I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday and I was up all night trying to find out anything I might need to know about my new team before I—put my foot in my mouth,” he finished lamely.

Even Clay snorted. Nothing like wasted effort, but the Losers had experienced their share of wasted effort, too.

The softly spoken words took everyone by surprise. “Say please.”

As one, the team turned to stare at their sniper. Confusion reigned. Clay appeared offended. No one was sure who he'd been talking to. Jensen, never one for silence if there was another option, hesitantly asked, “Please?” Clarification was his end goal, but what he got was a Snickers bar thrown at him; he missed the first catch, the candy smacked his chest, and he caught it on the rebound. “Um, thanks.”

Cougar nodded, unwrapped another Snickers—and Jensen had no idea where he was pulling them from, since the stash was upstairs—and sauntered into the kitchen.

As if the sniper's departure was a signal for dispersal, the rest of the team drifted to different areas of the house over the next thirty minutes.

An hour after the candy incident, Jensen blinked at finding a plate waved in front of his face. He gazed at the sniper in confusion. “For me?” A nod. “You're feeding me?” This got a look that clearly told him,  _ You're capable of feeding yourself. Don't push your luck. I just cooked. _ Despite the irritation aimed his way, the blond grinned. “Thanks!” Reaching with greedy hands, he pouted when it was pulled away.

“Downstairs.” Cougar turned and left the room, Jensen scrambling behind him. Giving up hacking for dinner was a small price to pay; the blond had no issues eating when the chef was as good as his cowboy comrade—and he certainly was good in the kitchen, judging by the mouth-watering scents luring the entire team to the dining room.

Roque, seeing the tech bouncing and babbling as he trailed the sniper, pulled up short on his way to the table. “No,” he told Cougar firmly. “If you feed him, he'll never leave.”

Unimpressed, the sniper stared back from under his hat, but it was Pooch who verbalized it: “He feeds the rest of us, too, Roque. Saying you wouldn't stay if you weren't fed? 'cause the Pooch'll call bullshit on that; you followed Clay around before either of us were Losers—and Clay can't cook to save his life.”

“Never said I followed whoever fed me,” retorted the XO, “and Clay's taste buds have been dead and fucking gone for longer than I've known him, but feeding techs just makes 'em wanna stay around.”

“Sometimes we stick around just to annoy people, too,” Jensen added, grinning widely. Then he blinked and faltered, noting all the looks aimed at him. “I...said that out loud, didn't I?”

Silence followed, broken by Cougar chuckling. Jensen gave him a curious look while the others eyed him askance. Pooch seized his plate and pulled it closer protectively, muttering, “The Pooch got a bad feeling about this. The Pooch is gonna get stuck in the goddamn middle again, huh? Well, fuck you, too....”

Clay sighed and rubbed his face. Sometimes he wished his team were more professional on base. Cougar had obviously just decided to feed Jensen and egg on the spectacle to come. Maybe he was lucky and Jensen would behave better with decent sleep?

Pooch read the hope on his CO's face and felt the looming shadow of irony heading, once again, for the Losers. When would Clay learn to not tempt fate?

The wolves burst into the room and demanded their meals, a welcome interruption. Dinner finished without another scene.

Cougar came into the room he shared with Jensen that night, both wolves with him. Sangre was set to follow his evening routine, but Donna stopped in her tracks as the room registered. Puzzled, the other wolf and his human brother tilted their heads at her in silent query.

_ Wrong, _ she sent, a wave of worry washing over them all, along with a stubborn rebuttal.

Jensen, snapped from his hacking by the bond, reached out.  _ Sweet poison and pine? _ All he got was another wave of the same  _ wrong/worry/no! _

Frowning, Cougar knelt next to her, ran a hand along her lower jaw and cheek, down her neck, let the petting stop at her shoulder.  _ What's wrong? Fix? _

Donna pressed into his touch, showing them all an image of the four of them in a pile, safe and comfortable, sleeping.  _ Yes, _ she sent. Then she looked at the room and whined.

Jensen eyed her with clear concern, then raised his gaze to the sniper. “Her first and so far only heat was a disaster, ended with medical intervention; the other wolf bit me when I reached for her and she damn near killed  _ his _ brother in retaliation. And then we were shipped out and had the pups overseas, two got bit by snakes and, given how far behind the lines we were, someone had to've placed the snakes behind the perimeter. It's hard on her to know some people aren't nice even to puppies, you know?”

From the sound of it, knowing that was hard on Jake, too, but Cougar wasn't going to comment on it. He sighed. “Move the beds. I'll handle Clay.”  _ Pack is priority. _

Even as Jensen turned to the beds, the tech sent back a wave of gratitude.

Cougar stepped into his CO's office on silent feet, only to lean against a wall and wait.

There was only so much waiting Clay could take. He sighed; it must be important, if Cougar was coming to him instead of anyone else. “Yes?”

“Requisitions will be interesting this month,” the sniper stated.

Something about the tone told Clay he was amused. Warily, he asked, “Why?”

Dark eyes met the CO's from under the hat. “Need to get rid of the beds, get a bigger one. Donna said.”

Clay cursed. “Please tell me she's not trying to set herself up like a königenwolf in Viking times.” Because, seriously, that was all he needed—and to be expected with the luck of any born Loser.

“New den,” was Cougar's response. “Knows me, Sangre's my brother; wants pack close.” He shrugged. “Still wanna hear you tell the rep we need a queen size bed.” His grin was a thing with teeth, as wild as his wolf.

Sometimes Clay regretted agreeing to take on any pack; his sour expression said this was one of those times.

Cougar returned to his room to find that karma had bitten him on the ass for his amusement at Clay's predicament; the only space left on the beds was between the two wolves. He was going to roast.


End file.
